


paint me tender

by notmykink



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, art student Iwaizumi, not during the sex he's a ??? friend/classmate, there's also a tiny ushijima cameo, uhhh painting and having sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-03
Updated: 2017-06-03
Packaged: 2018-11-08 16:08:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11085141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notmykink/pseuds/notmykink
Summary: “Are you going to smear me up with paint and fuck me against the canvas?” Tooru asks, shamelessly, and Hajime simply smirks.“Are you going to take off your clothes and let me?”





	paint me tender

**Author's Note:**

> i wasn't that satisfied with this one so i wasn't going to post it but then i was like.. but hajime.. art student hajime... im too weak.. i love him so much
> 
> apart from the paint, this is probably the most vanilla thing i've ever written. it's very soft. so if you're here for kinky shit its probably gonna be a disappointment, sorry buddy

Tooru should be used to it by now. He shouldn’t become this distracted the second Hajime takes out a camera or a sketchpad, yet he can’t help but feel like he has to do  _ something _ whenever Hajime deems him worthy as a subject for his art.

Tooru flips over the page, even though he hasn’t actually been paying attention to what the book said since the second Hajime pulled his camera out. He takes his lower lip into his mouth, biting at it thoughtfully as he tries to focus, but then he suddenly remembers that  Hajime is  _ photographing _ him and that he has to look good. He lets go of his lip, inhaling deeply as he tries to keep his face neutral.

“You don’t have to be so tense,” Hajime says, reaching over and fixing a tiny lock of hair falling down in Tooru’s face.

“I’m not,” Tooru says, looking up at Hajime with a pout, grimacing when he hears the telltale clicking noise as Hajime takes another picture. “Iwa-chan!” he hisses, turning to look back at the camera. Hajime just hums, lying down on his side next to where Tooru is plopped over on his stomach, and Hajime directs his camera towards him again. “Why don’t you paint me instead? Since you seem to enjoy using me as a motive **,** ” Tooru jokes, intending to embarrass Hajime, but Hajime just shrugs, looking down at the screen of the camera.

“Well, you know I’ve  _ tried _ ,” Hajime hums, chuckling as he leans in to kiss Tooru’s forehead before leaning back, sitting up and putting the camera aside. “And remember that time you got self conscious? I wish you could’ve kept still back then so I could paint  _ that _ image,” Hajime says, his tone teasing but his smile gentle. Tooru lifts up the book, burying his face in it as a cover.

“Iwa-chaaan,” he whines into the book before putting it down on the floor again as Hajime leans in, cupping his jawline and sliding his thumbs over his cheeks, pressing down. 

“Like right now,” Hajime whispers, looking down at Tooru’s cheeks in fascination. “I love when you blush,” he says, no trace of teasing left in his voice. Tooru’s mouth goes dry as he stares up at him and somehow he can’t remember how to move his mouth to give him a reply. When he finally  _ does  _ remember how to move again, Tooru turns his face away, probably blushing even more than before. 

Tooru’s instinct tells him to distract Hajime, make him think of something else, and the only way he can come up with is to kiss Hajime silly, so he sits up, pulling Hajime closer and meeting his lips in an open-mouthed kiss, probably too sloppy for Hajime’s usual liking, but Hajime doesn’t push him away. Hajime kisses him back with same fervor and the mood changes swiftly as Hajime bites Tooru’s lip, making him gasp in surprise, and Tooru licks at Hajime’s upper row of teeth before pressing his tongue into Hajime’s mouth, earning a snort from his boyfriend. Hajime pulls him closer, their thighs pressed together and Tooru’s textbook and the camera completely forgotten on the floor next to them. Tooru reaches out to open Hajime’s hoodie, pulling down the zipper before roughly pulling it off over his shoulders as well.

“Eager much?” Hajime asks with a breathless chuckle between kisses and Tooru replies by tilting his head to the side, nibbling at Hajime’s earlobe instead, letting his arms fall to his sides as Hajime also opens his shirt buttons, pulling it down over his shoulders, slightly more careful than Tooru was. Hajime throws his head backwards as Tooru begins exploring his throat instead, sucking at a specific spot in hopes of leaving a tiny mark, a signature like Hajime does on his paintings, if you will, and Hajime groans before grabbing Tooru’s hair at the back of his head, pulling him back so they can look at each other.

“Actually, I have an idea,” Hajime says, too coherent for Tooru’s tastes, and then he  _ fucking gets up and walks away, _ leaving the room and Tooru still of breathing heavily,  _ very much _ turned on and alone on the floor. “Iwa-chaaan,” he whines, loudly, before he hears Hajime laugh from the bedroom.

“Wait a second!” Hajime says, loud enough for Tooru to hear, and Tooru frowns, crossing his arms over his chest with a tiny unsatisfied ‘hrmpf’ escaping his lips.

Hajime returns less than a minute later with a package with some sort of paint, obviously different from the ones he usually uses, the different coloured containers bigger and with a slightly smaller selection of colours than usual. Frankly, it looks like a cheap paint kit for kids sold in 100 yen stores.

“What’s that?” Tooru asks, but Hajime doesn’t walk over to him, instead going to the corner of the room where he has his easel and canvases.

“Finger paint,” Hajime says, as if that’s obvious, putting down the container before grabbing some old newspapers from the pile on the floor next to his yet-to-be-painted on canvases, folding them out and spreading them over the floor. Tooru had always wondered what Hajime used those newspapers for, but now it seems obvious - to keep the floor clean from paint, of course.

“What—I know that. Do you think I’m a kid?” Tooru asks, and Hajime looks up, opening his mouth. Tooru raises his hand, stopping him. “Don’t answer that,” Tooru warns, watching Hajime stand up and look down at the newspapers covering the floor with a satisfied smirk before picking out a blank canvas, placing it on the floor. “Iwa-chan, I wasn’t… I wasn’t serious when I told you to paint—I was actually hoping for us to do, uh, something else,” Tooru says, uncrossing his arms before crawling over to Hajime, hoping that Hajime knows what he means. Hajime grabs the box of paints and walks over, kneeling down in front of Tooru and pulling him in for a kiss again, earning a tiny moan from Tooru as he realises Hajime isn’t going to leave him hanging with a half-hard dick and his needs unsatisfied. 

Hajime pulls back suddenly, pressing his pointer and middle finger against Tooru’s cheek, and Tooru notices too late that his finger is covered in something wet - the paint - before he leans back, almost falling over with a yelp.

“Iwa-chan!” he hisses, and Hajime chuckles before sitting down next to Tooru and opening the caps of all of the colours.

“Finger paint is non-toxic,” Hajime says, pulling the canvas closer before moving around so he can pull off his jeans, turning to give Tooru a telling look.  _ Oh. _

“Are you going to smear me up with paint and fuck me against the canvas?” Tooru asks, shamelessly, and once again Hajime simply smirks.

“Are you going to take off your clothes and let me?” he asks right back and Tooru opens his mouth, closing it again. His heart is beating rapidly in his chest, both nervous and excited. He suddenly realises that Hajime is expecting an answer, so he nods, already feeling his cheeks burn before he gets up, pulling off his own jeans.

“Boxers too?” he asks, and Hajime looks up at him, raising an eyebrow as if asking him how the hell they’re going to do it if not. Tooru frowns. “You’re sure it’s not toxic?” he says again, just to be sure, and Hajime presses his fingers into the paint before turning towards Tooru. “Okay, okay!” Tooru says, pushing off his boxers and kicking them aside with his left foot.

“Wait,” Hajime says, just as Tooru is about to join him by the paint, and Tooru stops, still standing, the only one of them who’s actually completely naked. “You should, uh, get the lube,” he says, looking embarrassed about forgetting it, and Tooru suddenly realises that even Hajime isn’t as sure of this as he tries to make it seem. Tooru gives him a wide smile, his nerves still there but suddenly subdued by his need to make Hajime feel good again. Tooru turns around and walks - well,  _ runs _ \- to the bedroom, grabbing the lube and a condom in the nightstand drawer before returning to the living room again, sitting down next to Hajime who’s  _ still _ not out of his boxers, still looking like he’s trying to figure out if he’s forgotten something equally important.

“Maybe I should keep my hands clean for the condom and stuff,” Tooru says lightly, crouching down next to Hajime, still smiling widely. Hajime looks up, squinting at him before he reaches up, grabbing Tooru’s cheeks and pressing a kiss against his lips. Tooru realises too late that his hands are definitely covered in paint, and now his cheeks as well. “If it gets in my hair I’m going to kill you,” Tooru says, and Hajime squeezes his cheeks, pressing their noses together before reaching up behind Tooru with one hand, combing his fingers through Tooru’s hair. Tooru whines, even though most of the paint was probably already wiped off on his cheek, and Hajime laughs.

“I can wash it out, it’s made for this, Oikawa,” he says, leaning in and kissing the corner of Tooru’s mouth before sliding his hands down to Tooru’s shoulders again. Tooru tilts his head slightly to the side, kissing Hajime properly and opening his mouth to deepen it, sucking at Hajime’s lower lip. Hajime pulls back slightly, his breathing unsteady, and Tooru can’t help but smile proudly, happy that  _ he’s _ the one making him react like this, simply from some mouth on mouth-action.

“You’re still not naked,” Tooru comments, and Hajime looks down, raising his eyebrows as if he’s forgotten.

“Oh,” he says before standing up, looking down at his already paint-smeared hands as if wondering what to do about it, and Tooru rolls his eyes, reaching up and pulling Hajime’s underwear down for him. Hajime lifts his feet from the ground, one at a time, helping Tooru with pulling them off completely, before he kneels next to Tooru again, looking conflicted. 

“What is it?” Tooru asks, reaching out for Hajime’s shoulder, rubbing it carefully in an attempt at comforting him. Tooru wouldn’t say that he’s an impatient man (okay, that’s a lie), but he’s beginning to worry that Hajime has lost the mood, and while they technically haven’t really started, he wouldn’t exactly feel satisfied with a face smeared in paint and a half-hard cock if Hajime suddenly decides to end it.

“I’m—I should wash my fingers so I can prepare you,” Hajime says, looking down at his hands helplessly again.

“Oh my god,” Tooru says, grabbing Hajime’s hands exasperatedly. “You better be saying this because I’m so irresistible that you want to finger me so badly, not just because you wanna satisfy me,” Tooru warns. Hajime pushes out his lower lip in an unintentional pout and he’s infuriatingly adorable. “You’re hopeless,” Tooru says, before parting his knees, still pressed against the newspapers covering the floor, sitting back on his heels and grabbing the lube.

“What are you—“

“I’m going to finger myself and you’re going to watch me,” Tooru says, his tone making it clear that there is no room for discussion, and Hajime looks up, eyes wide.

“T-Tooru,” he says, his voice slightly choked. Tooru looks down between his legs, realising that Hajime’s tone isn’t because he’s  _ against _ the idea. Quite the contrary. Smirking, Tooru pours the lube out over his fingers before placing them between his legs.

“I may not be able to paint amazing things out of nothing like you, Iwa-chan, but with this,” Tooru says, spreading the lube over his fingers as if it’s his own brand of transparent fingerpaint, watching Hajime’s fixed gaze with a smirk before continuing, “I can do pretty magical things as well.” He presses his fingertip against his entrance, leaning back and using his other hand for balance, to give Hajime a better view, pressing his finger inside slowly. Hajime’s pupils are slowly growing wider, his eyes still very much glued to Tooru’s hand between his legs, and  Tooru doesn’t miss when he fixes the way he sits, pressing his legs together to hide his growing erection. 

Tooru fingers himself slowly, eyes still trained on Hajime. He wonders when the hell Hajime actually went and bought the paint,whether or not he did it with this exact purpose in mind. That’d mean Hajime has been thinking about painting while having sex for a while, that—

Tooru feels a wave of affection washing over him and he moans, pushing his finger in deeper. 

Fingering himself isn’t something Tooru minds at all - he’s had more time to explore himself than Hajime has, can actually feel in his own body what works the best, but he still prefers Hajime touching him, if simply for the fact that he knows Hajime is an attentive lover who likes making Tooru feel good. The fact that Hajime is good enough at reading him to know what Tooru likes as well isn’t something he’d ever underestimate either. Tooru doesn’t mind  _ this _ either, though, watching Hajime being tortured with being unable to do anything but watch Tooru touch himself, his own fingers covered in paint, fidgeting as if he wants to do  _ something  _ with them.

“Maybe you should get started with the painting?” Tooru asks jokingly, tilting his head towards the painting and realising that it already has half a handprint of paint on it. Hajime nods, dips his fingers in the paint before starting to cover parts of the painting with the blue colour he’s chosen, his focus shifting entirely, and suddenly Tooru realises the tables has turned as he’s suddenly the one observing Hajime and he pulls his finger out only to press in two this time, licking his lips.

Hajime, when focused on his art, is captivating. Sometimes in the summer, he paints with nothing but sweatpants on, but right now Tooru is lucky enough to watch him completely naked, his fingers covered in paint as he works them over the canvas, using them as a natural paintbrush, his mouth slightly agape and just the tip of his tongue sticking out to the side like he does whenever he’s concentrating on something. Tooru presses his fingers in deeper, spreading them inside himself with a low moan. 

Hajime’s expression is so gentle when he paints, focused but soft, and it reminds Tooru of the parts of him that Tooru loves the most. Hajime is the gentlest person he’s ever met. The way his hands always find their way to Tooru’s head, combing through his hair gently and massaging his scalp, or the words he whispers against Tooru’s neck when he thinks Tooru is asleep, and his glances in Tooru’s direction, loving and honest, when he thinks Tooru isn’t aware or looking back. The dumbest thing about Hajime is the fact that he still hasn’t realised how Tooru is always looking back at him, but Tooru loves the private gazes the most, the ones Hajime probably wouldn’t let himself do if he knew Tooru noticed, the ones that makes Tooru feel more naked and wanted than his hungriest, most lustful gazes. Hajime is the first, only, and last person to ever be both someone who can put him into place and use force when needed  _ and _ take care of Tooru in ways that are loving but not patronizing, sweet but never too much. 

“Hajime,” Tooru gasps, pushing his fingers inside again, and Hajime looks up again, crawling closer instantly as he grabs Tooru’s upper arm, smearing the paint onto it. Tooru leans forward to get closer, his knee pressed against the canvas on the floor.

“This was a horrible idea,” Hajime says, pressing their foreheads together and sliding his fingers down Tooru’s arm, spreading out the paint and turning Tooru into his next canvas, stopping at the lower half before he reaches the wrist, pulling his hand away and pressing it against Tooru’s chest again. “I hate not being able to touch you,” he says, as he is literally touching Tooru’s chest with both hands. 

Tooru chuckles, reaching down with his free hand as he begins to stroke Hajime’s length, earning a low growl from Hajime. Hajime’s previously neglected cock is hardening quickly under his touch, and Tooru pulls back his hand, licking off the precum at the side of his pointer finger, winking when he notes Hajime’s eyes still fixed on his mouth.

When Hajime turn back again for more paint, Tooru pulls his fingers out of himself with a shaky inhale, feeling weird and empty without them, but the prospect of something bigger - something more - entering him again soon makes his own cock tingle and he grabs the condom when Hajime is turned away, licking his lips excitedly. 

When Hajime turns back, his hands covered in different colours this time, Tooru bites down on the foil package, ripping the condom open. 

“What are you—“ Hajime asks, as Tooru pulls out the condom and presses it against his lips, raising his hands out of reach when Tooru bows down between Hajime’s legs, pressing his mouth down on the head of Hajime’s cock, pushing the condom onto the head with his lips. Hajime slides his hand down Tooru’s spine, gasping for air as Tooru rolls the condom down further, using his hand to roll it on completely after his mouth has reached his limit, pulling off with a proud smile as he sits up. Hajime stares at him, wide eyed before he leans in to kiss him. “You’re amazing,” he says, awe-struck, as if complimenting someone so sincerely for being able to roll on a condom with your lips is a natural thing, and Tooru basks in the praise as he pours out more lube, slicking it over Hajime's length.

“Now turn me into a masterpiece, Iwa-chan,” Tooru says, pulling back from the kiss and sitting down next to the canvas, his ass pressed against the side of it as he tries to find a position comfortable enough for him to lie down with Hajime in front of him without completely disregarding the canvas on the floor. “A well-fucked masterpiece,” Tooru adds, and Hajime crawls closer again, in between Tooru’s legs as he presses his knees under Tooru’s thighs, forcing him to lift his legs slightly as Hajime embraces him, only for Tooru to yelp as Hajime presses the cold paint against his back.

“Sorry, I was just—“ Hajime begins, his hands sliding from Tooru’s shoulder blades to his elbows, his head leaned downwards as he looks at the space between them, the paint covering Tooru’s chest and their cocks erect, pressing against each other. Tooru licks his lips, trying to calm his breathing as he lies down against the canvas, feeling his back stick to it in a strange way. Hajime leans in over him, positioning himself better between Tooru’s legs before he rests an arm against the space over Tooru’s head and the canvas for balance, and then he slowly rolls his hips forward, his cock pressing inside Tooru.

Tooru’s rim stretches around the head, welcoming Hajime in, and Tooru gasps for air as he is slowly filled up. Hajime presses his forehead against Tooru’s, buried balls deep inside him, his balls literally pressed against Tooru’s asscheeks as Tooru tries to relax himself around Hajime, getting used to the sensation of being stretched out completely, the warm and overwhelming fullness following. 

Hajime starts thrusting into him, big and slow movements, as if if he does it slow enough the time will slow down as well and the moment will last longer. Hajime moves his hand down to the side for a few seconds before grabbing Tooru’s and clasping their hands together, aligning their fingers as he smears out the paint on Tooru’s fingers as well, then grabbing his wrist as he presses down Tooru’s hand on the canvas. Tooru lets him, slides his fingers over and pressing down the palm to make his mark on it before Hajime lets go of his hand, grabbing Tooru’s waist instead.

“You’re so beautiful,” Hajime whispers, leaning down and pressing their noses together before lifting his head again, blowing the stray hairs out of Tooru’s face. “So, so beautiful,” he nudges Tooru to spread his legs more with his knee and Tooru complies. Hajime thrusts inside Tooru again, the new angle with Tooru’s legs spread letting him sink in deeper, making Tooru see stars.

Hajime thrusts into him, slow and deliberate, spreading more paint over the canvas with one hand before nudging Tooru over, pressing his back down into it and spreading it further. At some point, Hajime forgets the original plan, the painting, his pace quickening as he fucks into Tooru, turning him into a shaking mess, covered in a mix of paint and sweat. 

Tooru comes quickly, hot and heavy, his cum smearing over his stomach, mixing with the paint on his skin, and Hajime slows down again, his hips rocking into Tooru more calmly. He reaches down, smearing Tooru’s cum over his fingers.

“What—what are you—” Tooru asks, but freezes when Hajime presses his finger down onto the painting,  _ mixing it in  _ with the paint. “Oh my god,” Tooru whispers, covering his own face with his hand, too weirded out (and, even weirder,  _ turned on _ ) by the act, and Hajime speeds up again, continues to pound into him, the feeling weird and almost too much after Tooru has come down from his own high, his body still oversensitive and shaking slightly but also  _ so fucking good _ and even while still trying to catch his breath, Tooru can’t hold back from whimpering in pleasure.

Hajime comes soon after, collapsing on top of Tooru with a grunt, pressing his lips against Tooru’s neck despite the paint probably covering most of his skin before he regains his breath, pulling out carefully and sitting up.

“You okay?” Hajime asks, and Tooru’s entire body is still vibrating slightly but he nods, unsatisfied with how  _ coherent _ Hajime seems to be compared to himself. 

“I need a shower,” Tooru finally breathes out, sitting up slowly and grabbing Hajime’s reached out hand for assistance.

“Mm, is it okay if you go ahead? I’ll join and help you after this,” Hajime says, 

“That’s really romantic,” Tooru says sarcastically, rolling his eyes as he gets up, not that he actually has a problem with having the shower to himself for a while, his legs slightly sore after all that, turning towards the bathroom. 

“Sorry, I’ll come and scrub your back like two old men in a minute, Tooru,” Hajime calls after him in reply as Tooru exits the room and for once, Tooru is lucky enough to be turned away, able to hide the blush creeping over his cheeks as he hears Hajime use his given name, how it’s said in such a domestic manner.

When Tooru enters the bathroom, he takes a look in the mirror and once again he’s filled with horror over the paint covering now most of his chest, arms and cheeks, some remnants of blue sticking to the tips of his hair as well.

“I’m going to murder him if this doesn’t wash off,” he whispers to himself before entering the shower, conveniently already naked, turning on the water to find the right temperature before starting to wash himself.

“Need some help?” Hajime asks after some time, voice calm, out of nowhere, and Tooru yelps, almost falling over in the shower.

“Iwa-chan, I didn’t hear you!” Tooru hisses, turning over and opening the glass door for Hajime to enter, remembering that he didn’t close the actual bathroom door, making it easier for Hajime to sneak up on him silently.

“Sorry, I was—I was looking at you,” he admits, his voice so gentle that Tooru feels like he could melt under the hot water, not unlike the paint slowly washing off his skin as well after some scrubbing.

“Come join me,” Tooru says, making room for Hajime who’s, to put it lightly, also quite a mess, except this time Tooru knows Hajime isn’t going to sit in the bathroom for half an hour to attempt to get off the paint like usual, not that Hajime had ever made  _ this _ much of a mess of himself with his usual paintings. 

Hajime enters the shower, opening his arms as he pulls in Tooru, pressing a kiss against his neck. “You actually do need some help washing your back,” he hums, his lips still pressed against Tooru’s neck right under his ear and Tooru giggles, nudging at him with his shoulder.

“Whose fault is that?” Tooru asks, pressing his washcloth against Hajime’s chest, starting to slowly rub off the paint sticking to his skin.

 

Tooru finishes first, exiting the shower to give Hajime enough room to clean up himself as he enters the living room, the air cold and no longer filled with warm fog from the shower, his eyes instantly zooming in on the painting.

Hajime put it up on the easel to dry and Tooru walks closer, squinting at it as he remembers the cum Hajime mixed into the paint, trying to locate it if it’s still visible.

The bathroom door opens again as Hajime walks out, a towel hanging loosely around his hips. Tooru can’t help his eyes from sliding down Hajime’s body and enjoy what had always been the most enjoyable piece of art to look at in his opinion, grateful that he’s lucky enough to be dating this person.

“Do you like it?” Hajime asks, his cheeks flushing slightly under Tooru’s gaze - Tooru wonders if he knows what he’s thinking of, and if the answer is yes, he wouldn’t be that surprised, honestly. 

“Yeah,” Tooru says, tilting his head when he looks back at the painting. “What… what is it supposed to be?” he asks, unsure if that’s the right question, and while he likes the colours and all, he can’t actually make out the motive.

“Can’t you tell?” Hajime asks, frowning at Tooru as he walks closer, and Tooru opens his mouth to apologise or blurt out an answer, but closes it again, embarrassed. Hajime only laughs at his reaction. “Haha, calm down,” Hajime says, moving over behind Tooru and rubbing at his upper arm, kissing his shoulder. “It’s supposed to be abstract, and even if it wasn’t I’d have an excuse - I was pretty fucking distracted while making it, you know,” he says, and Tooru chuckles, leaning his head back and to the side, his cheek resting against the side of Hajime’s face, effectively hiding the blush from the blood rushing to his cheeks.

 

The painting disappears from their apartment some time after, going to where Hajime stores most of his art at his university, Tooru assumes. He forgets about it after some time, his own studies and other memories with Hajime taking over his mind instead.

That is, until he finds himself staring at that same painting at an exhibition in Hajime’s department.

“ _ Iwa-chan _ ,” Tooru hisses, pulling at Hajime’s arm to keep him standing next to him in front of the painting, turning to look at him.

“What?” Hajime asks innocently, tilting his head and looking up at Tooru with a too-pleased smile. 

“That’s—that’s—“ Tooru tries, opening and closing his mouth as he points to the painting, looking between it and Hajime.

“Sexpressionism,” Hajime says, smiling proudly at his own horrible joke, and Tooru smacks his shoulder with the hand he was pointing at the painting with, covering the wide smile he can’t get off his lips with his other hands, at least somehow managing to not snort out loud or laugh.

Then, someone clears their throat on the other side of Hajime, and when Tooru looks up, he instantly recognises one of Hajime’s classmates - and Tooru’s fated rival.

“Ushiwaka-chan,” he hisses, grabbing Hajime’s shoulder as if to protect him from whatever threat Ushiwaka is supposed to possess.

“Expressionism is an artistic style, in which—” Ushiwaka begins explaining, but Tooru raises his hand, cutting him off.

“I know that! Make him stop, Iwa-chan,” Tooru hisses, turning to look at Hajime, who’s covering his mouth, the chuckles somehow still escaping his mouth as he laughs at Tooru’s expense. 

“Iwaizumi told me he had help from you, I didn’t know you possessed artistic talent,” Ushiwaka says, his tone sincere and friendly, and the fact that he isn’t actually trying to offend Tooru only makes it worse. Tooru turns to look at Hajime.

“Yeah, I did,” he says, and Hajime turns to look at Tooru as if trying to find out if he’s  _ actually _ going to tell how he helped Hajime with it. Tooru smirks at Hajime, raising an eyebrow to challenge him, and Hajime grimaces at Tooru before turning to Ushiwaka again.

“Sorry, Oikawa and I have to go right now, talk to you later?” he says, grabbing Tooru’s elbow and pulling Tooru away before Tooru has a chance to embarrass him. 

“Are we going home to…  _ paint _ another picture?” Tooru asks, smiling innocently at Hajime.

“We’re going home, and I’m never bringing you out in public again,” Hajime says, but he’s smiling back at Tooru, obviously as amused as he is. 

“I’m serious, though,” Tooru says, pulling Hajime closer. “I wouldn’t mind… doing it again.” Hajime looks at him again, squinting as if to see if he’s serious. Then he quickens his pace, both of them suddenly more intent on getting home as soon as possible.

**Author's Note:**

> mhhh wakatoshi is hajime’s classmate and another art student + a good person that tooru feels petty but not deep rivalry things against but it’s nothing serious in the end we all love each other remember that kids
> 
> i know very little about painting, very little about art school, even less about sex and finger paint (despite having looked it up … i feel like you could guess exactly what kind of white women do shit like that most of the time but i attempted to make it intimate and romantic for iwaoi idk bc i wanted to run with this idea lmao).  
> just imagine. a nice painting. basic colours bc fingerpainting is like p limited lmao. and yea, you can even get like sorta edible paint. then again, the paint may be nontoxic but i still recommend you dont put it on your dick


End file.
